Gone
by LVfangirl
Summary: Logan returns home to find things not as he expected. Post movie. One Shot


**A/N: Not Beta-ed. Forgive me. This one has been weighing on me all day because of song, if any of you know it, you shall know the ending to this little One Shot of mine. It is called ****_Love Vigilantes_**** by New Order, and the first line to follow is what has been weighing on my mind today. Thank you for reading.**

_**I want to see my family, my wife and child, waiting for me...**_

No one is waiting for him when he gets off the carrier. He turns to wave, but all of his companions for the past nine months are so engrossed in their own families that he turns right back into the crowd.

Directly he heads to the taxi cabs. It doesn't dawn on him that he should be looking for his car or that his bags are not with him. There is cab and he is suddenly in it, but when he leans forward to direct the cabbie, there is someone already in the back seat. The man sharing the bench seat speaks up, calling out, "Neptune, 616 Drugart Lane, please."

Logan recognizes the address as three streets from his own. "Do you mind if we share this ride?"

The man's eyes skim to where Logan is seated, his head tips in agreement. They ride in silence.

Logan's mind is turning over the past nine months, every twist and turn in his plane, every conversation and letter he's shared with Veronica. The hollow, empty feeling he's been had for months is finally lessening, but it's being replaced with nerves. He's going home.

It's their chance finally. He hasn't touched her for months, and before that, years, and now, finally, they'll be together. Logan can't wait to tell her the news: he's done. The Navy gave him the news this morning, he's finished his service. The whole morning has been a whirlwind and he can't quite remember the exact moment it happened, but he's done. He's officially through with travelling to war-torn areas and shitty weather that's miserably hot or intolerably cold. He won't ever have nights of unbearable loneliness, arms aching to hold her again.

The taxi stops; the ride has been short, almost dreamlike because he's been so caught up in his thoughts. His companion gets out quickly and pays, Logan jumps out to pay him his half, but the taxi drives off and the other man is already disappearing into a darkened house. Logan turns in circles, trying to get his bearings.

The walk is quick. Three streets over and the closer he gets, Logan can hear the tide of the ocean hitting the shore. His steps come faster, he's running now. The streets are void of vehicles; everyone has gone to work or parked their cars in the small, cramped garages that are typical here. He takes no time to ponder that, or the flag that is half-mast hanging from Dick's flag pole out front. He recalls idly the day Dick had the pole installed, the insistence that while Logan was gone, Dick would fly the flag proudly every day he was overseas.

The door is open and there is a stillness there that Logan doesn't recognize. The house is always filled with life, even when no one is home, Logan had always felt it. Growing up, the mansion he lived in was filled with negative or fearful energy, but Dick's place…it always had a happy and lively presence within it. Today it felt…burdened with something.

There are flowers everywhere. Strange; Dick has not a frilly bone in his body. Veronica would be the last person to insist a feminine touch in place she did not own. A surfboard has been converted into an entry table and on it; Logan sees a folded flag and a picture of himself, the one taken by the Navy. His brain doesn't process the meaning and he turns down the hallway, his steps not making a sound against the tiled floor.

The lights are off but he can tell there is someone there, just beyond the doorway that leads to the back area of the living room, where he's always stayed. The silence is crushing; he feels unable to breathe, as if his feet are stuck in mud or worse, concrete. His body is feeling trudged down by his own resistance. There is something beyond that door he is unenthusiastic to face.

Before he's prepared himself, he's at the doorway looking in. Veronica sits on the guest bed, clutching a paper that he recognizes as government issued. She's staring out the window, watching the tide that he heard earlier. She doesn't hear him or else she is purposely ignoring him.

She looks beautiful and his heart swells with love. There is something honest about Veronica that she doesn't hide when she thinks no one is watching her. He could stay here forever watching that unbidden truth to her.

Abruptly she stands and flings the paper to the ground. She breaks out into a loud keening cry that stops him in his tracks. His eyes track to where the formal paper has fluttered peacefully onto his shoe.

Regret to inform you…Logan Echolls, brave soldier and pilot... died in battle.

The world tilts. He reaches his hands out to steady himself, but there is nothing near to catch him. He feels himself falling but he never lands, because he is not here. He is not there, with her. He is gone.

His ears ring with an unnatural wailing and his eyes lock on where Veronica is now pounding her fists to the window and he fears she will break the glass and seriously wound herself. She doesn't seem to notice, instead flinging herself more purposely against it and there is nothing he can do. His arms reach out to take her but there is no way to hold her, he's helpless in his un-being.

How has this happened? His mind is demanding in betwixt its muddled confusion and incomprehension. He was so alive, but now it makes sense why no one was there to meet him at the carrier, why the man in the taxi didn't speak to him; why, why, why. He's dead.

He's never believed in ghosts. Well, that's not quite true. Lilly used to visit him pretty much all during high school, urging him to be nicer to Veronica. But he'd ignored her. Now he could see that her appearance had only been a figment of his imagination, because this… this was surreal. He feels his mouth open to scream, to call out to Veronica, to comfort her, but nothing will come forth from his lips. There is nothing he can do physically to help her. She doesn't even know he is there.

And Logan, belatedly, Logan realizes that he is not really there because there is no emotion beyond the shock that he is really not there. Nothing about this is real; the cool air blowing in from the ocean is not chilling his skin, the light of the sun is not warming him. All that he is aware of is Veronica and her agony.

His mind spins through everything he'd ever read about ghosts; and god, he's seriously worried because to haunt Dick's house will be a voyeuristic stay. His eyes drink in Veronica and he thinks back to the past few hours; or whatever this time that has passed is called that got him to here, to her. Maybe it's not within Dick's walls he's meant to stay; maybe it's with Veronica…home.

He settles himself, a calming air that seems to radiate from within him and fills the room. Veronica's soft wailing has turned to sobs and she returns to sit on the edge of the bed, staring straight at him.

Something shifts in her eyes. He sees it; he hopes it's because of him. But no, a strange sensation passes through him and he sees to his horror that Dick has just passed through his ghostly presence.

He comes to sit next to her on the bed. His arm wraps about her protectively, and Veronica sinks her head into his shoulder. It bothers Logan that as much as he always wanted the two most important people in his life to get along, not at this cost. Not at this cost.

Logan suddenly feels tired. He's fading, he can feel it now. He steps close to them, leans in, places his lips to hers, and she doesn't even know it, but her eyes open and they're staring at one another, his gaze intense on hers. He takes in the tears caught on her lashes, tracking down her cheekbones. The way her teeth have caught her lower lip in defeat. He feels her catch her breath in recognition and then…he's gone.


End file.
